Believe
by Breea
Summary: She knelt down to rub her fingers in the dirt. Smearing the mud across her already grimy face she stood, checked her dagger at her hip then brushed her hands off on her tunic. "I did." She agreed finally before setting off into the night.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** This is beginning of a story I started last fall. I have maybe 3 or 4 chapters written. Unsure if I am going to continue but I would like to share what has been written so far. Hopefully its enjoyable enough to read and during the editing process I hope to wake my muse and become inspired to finish the story. Let me know what you think! :)

**Believe**

**Chapter 1**

The sky was cloudless; black velvet sprinkled with diamonds and a full silver moon. There was no breeze in the woods, the air hung still and heavy. The cold bit at her fingers and nose but she ignored the unpleasantness. She had to focus. A brightly moonlit, silent night was not their friend.

She watched the men and women around her prepare. Some sharpened knives and daggers. Some were checking that their pockets and bags were secure. Most kept glancing up at the moon and shaking their heads in disappointment. She shared their sentiment.

They weren't a people meant for a life of crime. Their first instinct, as a collective, was to ask for help, cooperate with others to achieve goals. This war had forced their hands. Good people were now thieves and cutpurses, all in the name of survival. Did the high lords even know what war did to their common people and lesser nobles?

Yet here she was, homeless, parentless; a girl born to privilege now left to live a life of quiet raids with her baseborn villagers, stealing what they needed in order to survive. War was unfair, even to the noble.

"Ready milady?" George, the captain of her family's guard in days past, was the only man left from the castle that used to be her home. "We need to move now, while they sleep deep."

Eleanor nodded. She stood, sweeping her gaze across the group of twenty or so villagers that were going to go with her and George. Most were not meant for fighting. Eleanor herself was raised to be a lady. At seventeen, she had been weeks away from being married off when her future husband was called away to fight for the Lannisters, after the Starks had declared war. He was killed in the first battle he had fought in. She had never met the man but still she mourned, as a good lady should, for the man who was to be her husband.

Before her own home was attacked she had never picked up any sort of weapon. Her brother had tried multiple times to get her to duel him, a way to entertain himself on long, hot afternoons when most people just wanted to lie in bed and not move. Eleanor always refused him. Ladies did not wield weapons, for play or otherwise. Now even he was gone to war, protecting the Riverlands, and she was here, in this forest, wishing she had let him teach her.

Currently, she and the surviving villagers were trained and practiced, compliments of George. They were by no means a force to be reckoned with. Head on, any number of soldiers would be able to take them out easily. That was why they needed stealth and precision. They invaded camps at night, stole only what they needed, and disappeared as quickly as humanly possible. They avoided fighting at all costs. So far they had been very good or very lucky; no one had been caught.

George was issuing soft orders to the men and women who were to go out this evening. It was a large camp they had found, easily one of the lord's armies that was fighting for the crown. Typically she and the villagers came across smaller parties; groups of knights and lordlings that were out on their own for one reason or another. Some ended up being messenger parties, others had been raiding parties. Sometimes they were deserters. It didn't matter; the villagers took what they needed and were long gone before the parties discovered they'd been robbed.

She was not convinced that raiding this large of a camp was the wisest course of action, however. George had talked to her for hours about how this one raid could last them for weeks which would mean less risk for their people in the coming month. Brella was about to have her baby and a few of the children were sick. They needed enough provisions to hunker down in one spot for while until everyone was well enough to move on. This raid could help them to that end.

George, with his gruff voice, gray beard, and pleading eyes, had finally convinced her to concede, with reluctance. They were both the leaders of this patchwork group of people but she relied on him for strategy and battle counsel. If he thought it was necessary and she was hard pressed to deny him beyond her gut feeling, she had to trust him.

She still felt that ember of uneasiness burning in her stomach now as she watched him finish preparations. Lifting her chin up she swallowed the disquiet and tried to look confident. She was one of the villagers' leaders after all; she couldn't look shaken before they even began.

Bo was a thirteen year old boy who was tall for his age and not quite used to how long his arms and legs had gotten over the past six months. He was gangly and prone to tripping or stumbling. He didn't usually go on raids with them as he was still very much a boy. Yet he wanted desperately to prove he was a man so he always volunteered to accompany them. His job usually ended up as guard to the women and children back at the camp, the ones who were unable to help with the raid. This night, however, it was all hands on deck; they needed every body that could reasonably help.

He was standing by a stump, his knees visibly shaking as he watched men and women disperse among the trees after getting their assignments from George. Eleanor took a deep breath and walked over to him. He jumped when she set a hand on his shoulder but managed a jittery smile when he met her eyes. "Milady." He gave a half curtsey, half bow at seeing her.

"Bo. Don't be nervous. It will be just like we practiced." She tried to assure him. She hoped she was more convincing than she felt.

He looked straight at her; they were the same height now even though he was years younger. "Thank you, Lady Eleanor. I am not scared though." He tried to look brave though his gray eyes betrayed him.

She needed him calmer, steadier. One clumsy moment from this boy could ruin it all. George had confidence in him; she less so. Still, they needed the extra set of hands. Bo was bound and determined to prove what an asset he could be beyond camp guard. George had agreed that he was ready to prove himself a man. Eleanor was trusting in George's judgment, yet again.

She took both Bo's shoulders in her hands and faced him to her. "It's ok to be scared. It will make you more alert. Just watch where your feet go and you'll be fine. Remember, George and I believe in you." She hoped they were reassuring words that bolstered his confidence.

Bo nodded. "I know, milady. I will do you proud." He was trying to look confident for her. It was the best she could hope for.

"You know your job. Go do it." She let go of him and gestured toward the wood, toward the awaiting camp. He nodded and took off into the woods. To her astonishment and pleasure he did not trip once. She watched until he disappeared into the black forest. Maybe she had been wrong to doubt him.

"You're turn." George stood next to her. They were the last two in the clearing.

"I would like to say one last time that I think this is a bad idea." She pressed her lips together to keep from saying more.

"Your protest has been noted, milady. But you did agree to this, in the end." George reminded her.

Eleanor remembered the argument well. The lord's camp was too big, too well guarded; there were too many chances to be caught. George, her strategist, her counsel, countered that this one big raid would make it so they would not have to steal again for many weeks. The men and women were trained well and with such a large number going in the whole entire incursion would last less than twenty minutes. In and out, then safe for weeks. George insisted it was an opportunity not to be missed. Eleanor had to take his word for it; he was the one who had seen and been in battles before. Maybe her misgivings were just the fear of what she didn't know. His argument and expertise, in the end, swayed her decision.

She inhaled deeply, the scent of pine and smoke from the distant fires calming her, helping her to focus. She knelt down to rub her fingers in the dirt. Smearing the mud across her already grimy face she stood, checked her dagger at her hip then brushed her hands off on her tunic. "I did." She agreed finally before setting off into the unfortunately silent, bright woods.


	2. Chapter 2

******A/N:** This was meant to be the 2nd part of the first chapter. Oops! I apologize for the shortness. Still hope you enjoy :)

**Believe**

**Chapter 2**

Sleep was all he wanted. A hot bath would be nice but if he could sleep for a week he would be satisfied. He missed his bed, back home in Winterfell. He looked at the bearskins that served as his bed in his tent and frowned. Not nearly as comfortable as the down feathers back home but right now they would have to do. He was exhausted.

The days of battle had been long; the nights longer. Fighting was an important part of war but the battle strategies that kept him up late evenings were even more so. Strategy and discipline, that's how you win a war. His father had drilled the notion into his head since Robb could hold a sword: Numbers are nothing; discipline will win every time. So far his father hadn't been wrong.

Currently Robb held the Kingslayer captive and was on his way to meet his uncle's army at Riverrun. The battles had been hard fought but his deceptive strategy had won him the day. Seeing Jaime Lannister in chains had been satisfying. Yet he wondered if it was worth the two thousand lives he sent to die at Tywin Lannister's hand. The guilt wrenched his gut and haunted his dreams, making his nights even more sleepless.

Tonight he was sure that even guilt wouldn't keep his eyes open once he laid down. He didn't fully undress; when one was at war one had to be ready to jump up into battle at a moment's notice. He slept in light leathers with his sword next to his bed. It wasn't the most comfortable sleeping attire but it was the way it had to be.

As Robb crawled in among the furs he tried to recall just how he got to this place. It happened all so quickly, like a storm front blowing in over the keep back home. One minute he was Robb, eighteen, learning about life from his mother and father in a cozy castle far away from excessive drama or conflict; the next minute he was Lord Robb Stark, leader of an army, death and violence surrounding him as constant companions while he fought for a crown he never knew he wanted. He felt dizzy at thought of how fast change came about.

At this point he couldn't alter his course, even if he wanted to. Lannisters had his father, his sisters. His duty and honor would always win out above what he wanted. Lords, kings for that matter, were not always allowed the luxury of 'wants.'

Robb knew that he would be asleep the moment his head hit the pillow. He was grateful for being able to have men around him that he trusted, to guard his back while he slept. Joran, his ever vigilant personal guard, stood outside the tent entrance, strong and alert. The only way Robb could attempt to sleep lately was if he knew Joran was nearby.

It might have been hours but it felt like minutes when the alarm horn sounded, waking Robb from a dead sleep. He rolled out of bed with little grace but grabbed his sword and was on his feet in seconds.

He was not alone in his tent. There was a hooded boy bent over his war chest in the far corner. The boy had gotten the lock off and was scooping his gold and gems into a purse. "Stop." Robb commanded, the word past his lips instinctually, without a second thought.

The hooded figure froze, obviously startled. The purse was tied to his waist so when he let it go it remained attached. Arms raised slowly at his sides as he began to stand. Robb left his sword pointed toward the intruder, ready to strike at any sudden movement. Robb was trying to work out in his head how this person could have gotten into his tent with Joran at the only entryway.

Another alarm horn sounded but Robb didn't flinch or look away. Whoever this person was in his tent had his full attention. The boy slowly turned, eyes on the ground, hands still up. Before Robb could pose a question the thief moved quickly. With one fluid motion he took his hooded cloak off and swung it into Robb's face. He ducked under the sword and ran for opening in the tent.

Robb struggled with the cloak for an instant yet it was long enough for the intruder to make it to the entrance of his tent. One more step and he would get away. "Stop!" Robb demanded again angrily, moving toward him.

Joran, walked in at that exact moment, blocking the thief from the exit. The boy had been one step from freedom but Joran's large presence knocked him backward onto his rear end. The boy scrambled backward a few notches for which Robb couldn't blame him. Joran was a frightening man to look at with his scarred face and arms the size of tree trunks.

Robb lowered his sword, certain that the thief wasn't going anywhere and there was no longer any danger. He walked over to grab his own cloak, heavy grey cloth fringed with brown rabbit fur. It made him look older, wiser, and more intimidating. If he had thieves he needed to deal with he needed to look the part.

"Bring him." Robb commanded Joran, making to move past his guard and into the camp.

"Who him, milord?" Joran was confused. Joran wasn't known for his wits but he was usually capable enough to follow orders.

Robb paused, matching Joran's confused stare. He motioned toward the thief on his floor. "Him, him." Robb clarified.

Joran looked at the thief then back at Robb, nodding. "Her, milord?"

Robb looked down at the intruder. She wouldn't look up at him, her face was a smudge of dirt, and her clothes were made for men but face-on without her cloak he could tell she was definitely not a man. Robb frowned but looked back at Joran and returned the nod. "Yes, _her_."


	3. Chapter 3

**Believe  
><strong>

**Chapter 3**

A dozen scenarios of why they had been caught danced through her head as she was marched behind the lord of whatever camp this was. The big man, his personal guard most likely, kept a strong yet strangely gentle grip on her upper arm as he led her. There was a lot of commotion going on in the camp but people still made way when they saw their lord coming through. Her thoughts turned to what he might do with her and her people now that they were in his custody. Was he a merciful Lord or had they all just forfeited their lives?

Their little procession of three gathered people as they headed toward the center of camp. There was a large fire burning and already a few of her villagers kneeling in front of it. She counted eight, Bo among them. There was no George, however. She prayed that he had gotten away. Someone needed to take care of the people; the only other leader they knew was George.

The large guard forced her to her knees next to her friends. He took a few steps back, close enough that he could easily grab her if she tried to run. She kept her gaze on the ground, following the training George had given them for situations where they might be caught. Say nothing, do nothing, look at nothing. If they take your life, so be it. It will be given in service of saving the rest. Lords did not look fondly upon a band of thieves regardless of reasons. Her silence protected them all.

"Which of you is the leader of this rabble?" The lord spoke loudly and with purpose. He paced in front of them; she could feel his steely stare though she dare not look up and meet his eyes. She wanted more than anything to jump up and claim leadership but George had taught her it would mean death for her and all who were caught. She pressed her lips together and kept her eyes down. Out of the corner of her eye she was proud to see the other eight following instructions and doing the same even though they had to be terrified.

"Are there more of you?" The lord tried a different question. One of the men standing behind them gave one of the villagers a little nudge with his foot. Still everyone remained silent.

"Someone _will_ talk or I will have all your heads here and now." The lord was getting impatient. That was to be expected. Threats were natural. George had told them not to buy into the threats, wait for the promises. Dead prisoners can't talk; threats were usually hollow.

Since her eyes were on the dirt in front of her, Eleanor didn't see what happened next. From the sounds she could hear she determined that someone from their group was dragged to their feet. There was scuffling and the sound of a sword being drawn. She looked up in time to see Devonay, one of the girls from her town, being forced to the ground on all fours, in front of their group, and a swordsman making to take off her head.

Eleanor lost her voice in that moment. She choked on the words that would stop this from happening. She, again, wanted to stand up and declare herself in order to keep Devonay from losing her life. She replayed George's voice over in her head; _they won't kill her, it's all a trick_, she reminded herself. She would like to think it was his words that held her in place but she was aware that fear also played a role in stealing her voice. Fear that George was wrong.

"It's me! I'm the leader." A voice called out, halting the macabre scene before them from playing out. Eleanor looked to see Bo standing up best he could with his hands tied behind his back. He was breaking George's rules, for which she would kill him later, and yet she couldn't help but feel a small bit of pride that he was brave enough to stand up for Devonay; a small bit of pride and a lot of annoyance.

The lord motioned for the headsman to stop. Devonay collapsed to the ground in tears. The lord marched over and grabbed Bo by the collar. Though Bo was tall for his age, the lord was a man grown; young, but tall and currently full of anger. "You are no leader. You're a boy."

"D-doesn't mean I can't l-lead." Bo's sudden burst of courage was waning in the fire of the lord's fury. "Just don't h-hurt her." The stammering was too much for Eleanor. Bo was forcing her hand. Rules be damned, she was going to have to fix this before Bo got them all killed.

Taking a deep breath she stood, looking straight forward, not at the lord and Bo or even at Devonay. "He's not the leader. I am." She cut into their argument before it could get any farther.

From the corner of her eye she saw him drop Bo's collar. He shoved the boy back to his knees before stalking toward her. He stood in front of her, filling her vision. She hadn't really looked at him before this moment. He was handsome with wide blue eyes but his scowl made him look a bit on the scary side. Out of habit she dropped her eyes when he glared at her.

"You're not the leader. You're just a girl." He looked toward the rest of the villagers. "Are you all so craven that you'd let a boy and a girl take credit for being your leaders?" No one responded; every villagers' eyes were on the ground before them. He looked back to her. "What were you doing here?"

"Provisions. We needed food and supplies." She replied matter-of-factly.

"You could have asked." The lord countered.

"Haven't had much luck in asking." She replied, still not meeting his eyes.

"Are there more of you?" He repeated an earlier question.

She turned and looked at the eight people he had to her right. She looked back and met his gaze straight on. "No," she lied, praying her eyes wouldn't betray her.

The lord met her gaze a moment longer, most likely trying to determine if she was, indeed, lying. She felt her palms sweat and her heart sink as the moment lasted longer than anticipated. Her gut wrenched when she realized he would now have them all killed for her one lie.

Finally, with a single nod, he looked away, back toward his men. "Take them, they're prisoners for now." He looked over at his muscled personal guard. "You take her to the command tent. I'm not done with questions."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

This was the part he liked least about being a lord. He had to make decisions about people's lives. Sometimes the answer was black and white; he didn't mind making decisions in those times. But times like this, when it was a gray area, he hated being in charge. Did he kill them for stealing, or merely take their hands? Were they truly starving and therefore he should show mercy and let them go? Would that make him seem weak and invite more thieves into his camps? He knew his men, his lords, would be watching his every move on this one and he could gain or lose favor depending on the outcome.

He reflected on the scene that had just played out in the center of camp. Robb would never have let Daryn Hornwood take the innocent girl's head but the prisoners wouldn't have known that. The threat was dangerous but it had done its job. Robb now had their leader, or at least a girl who claimed to be their leader, and he would convince her to tell him what he needed to know to make a decision.

Joran brought her into the command tent followed by Theon and two of his trusted lord generals. Joran made her sit in a chair, though Robb was surprised at how gentle he was being with her. He hadn't ever noticed his personal guard using a light touch before. Yet Joran stood behind her chair, ready to grab her at a moment's notice, still in control of her. Making a note to ask Joran about his behavior later, Robb sat across from her, focusing on the problem at hand.

"Why the lies?" Robb asked her, straight to the point.

Her obstinate green eyes stared back at him with contempt. He wasn't going to get easy cooperation from her. Maybe another approach would soften her up a bit.

"I may be able to persuade my men to let your people go if I get a few answers," he prompted.

"Promise me." She replied instantaneously, her voice surprisingly strong. She didn't sound scared.

"Promise you?" Robb repeated her words, puzzled by her turn of the conversation. She wasn't the one in a position to make demands.

"Swear to me, on your honor and promise by your Gods that you will let my people go and I will tell you anything and everything you want." She answered, sitting forward a little in her fervor. "No lies."

That took him aback. Vague promises he could deal with because if he didn't follow through with them there was no honor lost. But swearing by her conditions bound him by duty to follow through. Robb put honor and duty above almost all else, enough so that he would _have_ to do what she said if he agreed. He glanced over at Theon Greyjoy then the two lords that had accompanied them in the tent. Their eyes were on him, faces neutral.

Taking a deep breath he decided on his answer as he met her eyes again. "Very well. On my honor, before all the Gods, new and old, I promise that if you tell me the truth I will let your people go." He leaned forward on the table toward her. "Them. Not you." He added, looking at her pointedly to make sure he was understood.

She stared at him a long time; long enough that he was beginning to feel uncomfortable under her scrutiny. She was filthy, skinny, barely more than a slip of a girl under all the clothing and grime. But her eyes shone bright and fierce. Despite everything she still had a fire in her. That he could appreciate, almost admire. Finally, she nodded once, agreeing to his terms.

Robb felt himself relax. This might all work out and he wouldn't end up having to sentence anyone to death. One more prisoner wouldn't be a large burden, especially since they were close to arriving at Riverrun where they would have a proper dungeon for their captives. If he could get some answers he could dole out proper punishment and not lose the respect of any of his lord commanders.

"So, are you really the leader of this group?" Theon asked the first question for Robb. Robb gave him a sharp look but let it stand as it was.

The girl nodded. "Yes."

"You're a girl." Theon stated the obvious.

Her eyes snapped to his face with a hint of annoyance. "Yes," she agreed with him.

"How did a girl get to be leader of a band of thieves?" Robb asked, giving Theon a warning glare.

"I'm not a leader of 'a band of thieves.' I am a leader of a group of people that used to live in a town but lost their homes and most of their families to this war. We do what we have to in order to survive because people like you destroy everything in your path." Her fists clenched on the table as she spoke, venom dripping with every word.

"We didn't destroy your town." Robb ignored her ire for the moment in lieu of figuring out what she meant. He would have known if they destroyed a whole town in one of their battles. He very deliberately tried to avoid towns, villages and any well inhabited lands when possible.

"No, but this war did. The Lannisters and their bannermen, their _knights_, go around and burn, rape, and kill whoever they can, just because they can. Whole towns, cities, villages gone because high lords like you can't figure out who can wear a crown best."

"Lannisters?" Robb repeated, processing her words. "Your town was sacked?"

"Torn to the ground. My parents burned alive in their bed. Everyone I knew destroyed before my very eyes. We were a town of around four hundred people. Now we are fifty." He watched her expression turn haunted as spoke about the loss despite her attempt at hiding emotion.

He had known towns and villages were being abandoned but he never imagined knights, not even Lannister knights, would murder innocent villagers for no reason. He had empathy for the town's situation but he still could not condone thievery. "Why not go to Riverrun for shelter? Surely that is a better life than stealing for your food."

"_Everyone_ has gone to Riverrun for shelter. There's hardly a spot there to live. The streets are overcrowded and sickness spreads quickly. We have done fine in the life we have chosen, every day up until today. We've caused little harm and there's been no loss of life." She looked around at the five men in the tent. "It was foolish to try and steal from a large camp. I told them so."

"I thought you were the leader." Robb accused, seizing on her words and leaning forward. "Our deal revolves around you not lying. Why would your followers go against your wishes?"

"I'm the leader yes, but not battle trained. I rely on counsel for that. Those more seasoned than I convinced me it was worth the risk." She met his eyes again with a strong stare. "I am not lying," she insisted.

"So there are fifty of you total?" Theon went back to her last words. "You lied earlier when you said there was no one else."

She looked at Theon again, her annoyance at him not hindered. "I wasn't promised anything earlier, of course I lied then."

Robb noticed in that moment she was very well spoken for a commoner. She also never addressed anyone formally, something that was habit for most common folk. She was smart as well, something rare to find in a low born girl. Not that a common person couldn't be intelligent but there was something about the way she sat in the chair and spoke with such care that made him think there was more to her than she was letting on.

"What is your name?" Robb asked, scrutinizing her as she replied, eyes narrowed with sudden suspicion.

She hesitated. "Ela-Ella. My name is Ella. Ella Aldren." She wouldn't meet his eyes and he was fairly sure she was lying but there was no way to prove it one way or another. He had a choice; he could name her a liar and negate everything she had told them or he could let her one lie slip. If _any_ of what she said was truth he couldn't see a reason fit to keep her people captive. He would honor their bargain. He would discover her name later.

"Theon, have the prisoners, Ella's villagers, released. Tell them to go back to their people and seek refuge in Riverrun. It may be overcrowded but it's better than living lawlessly and becoming thieves of the realm. If they are caught stealing again their sentence _will_ be death." Robb watched her as he spoke, to gauge her reaction. If he was expecting any emotion he was disappointed. She watched the table passively as though she didn't care about his words one way or another.

"Joran, take her as a prisoner. She and Jaime Lannister can have a nice long conversation about the benefits and detriments of war while we make our way to Riverrun."


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** And so ends the bits of the story I wrote last fall. This was the last part I wrote, I've revised it at least 10 times this week. I have an outline for the entirety of the story. Chapter 6 is slowly coming along. Hope you enjoy...

**Believe**

**Chapter 5**

Joran, the guard with the scary face, large arms, and peculiarly auspicious grip led her to a heavily guarded area of the camp. There were cages with two or three men in them, each with padlocks as big as her head. They formed an enclosure with a cliff face on one side and five guards on the entrance side. One of the entrance guards led her and Joran back to a large tree near the cliff face. There was one man already in chains, sitting on the ground near the tree. The moon was bright and high in the sky but it threw darker shadows than the sun. The other prisoner's face remained hidden to her.

Joran put shackles on her ankles and wrists. They were tight enough that she couldn't wriggle out of them but loose enough that they didn't pinch her skin. Eleanor gave Joran a questioning look when he was done fastening them, wondering why he was being so gentle with her, but he never looked at her face. He hooked her up to the tree and left without a word. With little other choice, she sat on the ground next to the man she could only assume was Jaime Lannister because of the lord's parting words.

They were silent for a long time. Eleanor ran through her head all the things she promised herself she would say if she ever came across a Lannister. There were accusations, curses, and angry tirades all swirling into one giant outburst that she desperately wanted to let out. Yet the longer she spent trying to decide what to say first, the longer the silence grew and the harder it became to come up with an opening statement.

"Not surprised to see Stark imprisoning a girl. He's craven enough to put his mother in shackles if he thought she'd harm him." Jaime was the one to break the silence. His voice sounded dry but strong, bitterness showing through. "What did you do? Try to steal his food?"

"And clothes, and money, and gems." Eleanor supplied. She knew Jaime was trying to be amusing and didn't realize how dead on he was. "And some horses," she added as an afterthought.

She made a note of his words. He had called the lord imprisoning them Stark. That was the lord from the north, son of Catelyn Stark, daughter of Hoster Tully of Riverrun. Her lessons about the high lord families of Westeros replayed in her mind, each relevant name and sigil flashing through her head. From what news she'd heard of the ongoing war it made sense that he was the one who caught Jaime Lannister and held him captive; most likely to trade for his father.

"Really?" Jaime sounded surprised and possibly impressed at her reply. "Ambitious. Reckless. And obviously failed."

"Maybe." Eleanor replied vaguely, thinking about George and the ten others who had gotten away. The eight who had been captured with her should be freed by now. She hoped there was no problem with them getting back to their home camp. Briefly she wondered if they would try to mount a rescue for her or do as Lord Stark ordered and go on to Riverrun. While she would like nothing more than to be free, the likelihood of a rescue succeeding was slim; she hoped George had enough wits about him to just go to Riverrun. Disobeying at this point would be unwise.

"Maybe? Did you have some friends that got away?" Jaime seemed genuinely curious, though it was hard to tell without seeing his face.

She debated telling him the truth. She didn't want to be overheard but the nearest guards were not within earshot. He was also a Lannister, not to be trusted. "All I claim is that the plan might not have totally failed. Take it as you wish, Kingslayer."

"That's really a hateful name." Jaime's tone turned sharp, hostile.

"It's what you're known as. Did you not slay a king?" She was surprised at his reaction. Eleanor hadn't said the name to offend him but it was interesting that he was so defensive about a word. Making a mental note of his resentment she decided it would be best to keep as much of the discussion focused on him as possible. The fewer questions she answered about herself, the better.

"It was the best thing to happen to this realm. Aerys was truly mad. I saved the Seven Kingdoms from his intended destruction." Jaime spat. His words sounded rehearsed, as though he had said them many times over again in his head, trying to convince himself.

"Yet it doesn't change your name. For good or for bad, you are a kingslayer." Eleanor pointed out. "I think you and your kin have little use for human life or honor. Perhaps you don't understand why people call you what you are but they are just stating facts."

"What do you know of me or my kin?" Jaime asked, his tone rising along with his anger.

"I know what your kin do when left to their own devices." She was picturing the golden Lannister lion that had been displayed on the crimson banners of the knights that burned her home and murdered her parents. "I know you are all born with evil in your bones and it pervades out to all that surround you."

Chains rattled as Jaime sat up straighter and tried to turn to look at her. "You have no right to speak to me this way. I am _Ser_ Jaime Lannister, knight of the realm, a member of the king's Kingsguard, son to-"

"Tywin Lannister of Casterly Rock, Warden of the West. Yes. I know." Eleanor turned to look at him when she cut him off. He couldn't get near her but he could see her. "Forgive me if I don't bow. Chains and all." Her tone was dry and disinterested.

"You speak rather boldly for someone of your status." Jaime's eyes narrowed. "You should watch your words when speaking to your betters."

She bit her tongue to keep from telling him that he had no clue what her status was. Eleanor might be from a minor house but she was still of noble blood and had been raised as a lady of the realm. It was easily within the laws and her rights to be wed to any of the noble houses in Westeros, from lords to kings. She was barely able to keep her pride in check and not throw his words back in his face.

"No snappy reply now?" His expression turned into a lazy smirk. "It's always good to be reminded of your place."

Before her parents had been murdered she had known her place. In her previous life, the life of a noble girl being raised as a lady, she would have never presumed to speak to any knight, much less Ser Jaime Lannister, so heedlessly. She had been a girl that had been taught never to speak until spoken to and never argue with a man.

Since then she had learned that being quiet and meek, while okay for the rich and noble, was no way to live when you had nothing. George and the other townspeople had looked to her, trusted her, to be their voice and look out for their best interests. She had to be confident, even when she didn't feel confident. She had to learn to speak her mind. Right now her mind was telling her that this Lannister was the last person she needed to hold respect for. Etiquette from her old life be damned, she would not let this man bully her into silence.

"Right now you are in that same place. I wouldn't speak with such impudence if I were you. We're both prisoners and you are certainly not my better," she replied. His self-satisfied smugness, even as a prisoner of his enemy, was infuriating.

"Don't let these chains fool you, girl. The instant one of these idiots slips up and gives me an inch I'll tear through this camp leaving nothing but corpses in my wake. I underestimated the Young Wolf once; it won't happen again. I'll remind him of _his_ place in the world before I mount his head on a spike." His words were tinged with a malevolence that spoke volumes about his wounded pride.

She wanted to do more than just wound his pride. "So tell me, Jaime Lannister of the Kingsguard, so full of honor and lust for revenge, do you remind the knights sworn to your banner of their place?"

He looked taken aback by her question. "I have nothing to do with knights of Lannister. Those are my father's men."

"So they operate under your father's commands?" She asked, slipping her knees up under herself so she was kneeling, facing him, a few feet away. It was uncomfortable with the shackles but she wanted to gauge his reaction to her words. She wanted to watch his face.

"Yes," was his simple reply.

"Your father commands them to burn down villages and towns?"

"Ones that are not under Lannister protection. Villages and towns that support our enemies." Jaime nodded as though it were perfectly practical.

"While the villagers are still in the houses?" Eleanor asked.

Jaime hesitated for only a second. "There are casualties in war. Sometimes innocents get caught in the crossfire. It can't be helped." He spoke slowly and deliberately. She could tell he was trying to gauge where she was going with this conversation. He had no idea what his own men had done to hundreds, probably thousands of people in the realm. His ignorance made her blood boil.

"What about raping the villagers first, can that be helped? Or what about killing husbands in front of their families? Or slaughtering everyone in a castle just to prove they can do it, even though the castle has been surrendered? Is that all just 'part of war'?"

Jaime swallowed. He looked concerned but not upset. "What are you talking about?" He asked, cocking his head to one side in interest.

"I'm talking about Lannister knights, with banners bright as flames, murdering a lord and lady in their bed while they slept, sacking a village full of people, and leaving the town to burn to ashes for no other reason than they were passing through." Eleanor had to check her ire. She was getting passionate and upset. She didn't want to cry tears of anger or otherwise in front of this man.

"Every knight has a different sense of honor. I'm sure they had good reason to-"

"If that is what you consider any sense of honor you are just as much a monster-"

"I didn't say it was honorable. If you'd let me finish, I was going to say they probably thought-"

"You think there is a valid reason in existence for the murder and destruction of a whole town-"

"QUIET!" A guard appeared from the front, racing back to the two of them. Jaime and Eleanor were both forward, on their knees a foot apart, and yelling without realizing it. The guard approached and swung the pommel of his sword at Jaime's head. Jaime leaned with the blow so it barely grazed him but the force was enough to knock him back to his side of the tree, on his butt.

The guard took Eleanor by her shoulders and forcefully shoved her down on her side of the tree. She could feel his acrid breath on her skin as he stuck his face an inch from hers. "I hear one more peep I don't care what Lord Stark says, you're going in a cage with those men." He pointed to one of the full prisons on their side. The men inside looked at her in much the way she pictured a wolf looked at an unwitting deer. She nodded her acknowledgement to the guard and he left, muttering to himself.

Her conversation with Jaime Lannister was over for tonight.


End file.
